Attributes
by Dendera
Summary: Begin with one sarcastic Ron Weasley; add an indignant Hermione Granger. Blend equal parts quarreling, chemistry, and tension. Add pinch of flirtation. Mix well. Set in the days of "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix."


**Title: **Attributes

**Author: **Dendera

**Rating: **PG****

**Summary: **Begin with one sarcastic Ron Weasley; add an indignant Hermione Granger. Blend equal parts quarreling, chemistry, and tension. Add pinch of flirtation. Mix well. Set in the days of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

**Disclaimer: **J.K. Rowling is bloody brilliant. As such, it should be more than obvious that these are her characters and not mine. However, this story _is_. Therefore, all interested muggle parties should request the author's permission before posting or reproducing this vignette in any way.

**Author's note:** I heart feedback, so please leave some. It's greatly appreciated!

* * *

"Do you reckon he'll be alright?" Ron questioned abruptly, glancing up from his dreaded Potions assignment. He nodded toward the staircase leading up to the boy's dormitory. "He's been up there a long time."

Hermione put her essay aside, which seemed to read like a bloody novel, Ron noted wearily. "Why don't you go and talk to him, then?"

"Me?" Ron squeaked at the suggestion, "Why does it have to be me?"

She matched his reluctance with a cool glare. "Maybe because you happen to be his best friend, _Ronald_."

"Yeah, well, so are you," he pointed out.

Hermione lay her quill down with a sigh. "Yes, I know, but it's different. I can't just confront Harry about his problems with Cho," she explained emphatically. It isn't my place."

"So it's mine, is it?"

She gave him a puzzled look. "Of course it is. Isn't that what you boys do when you're all together anyway? Talk about girls?"

He appeared discomforted, as if answering her question would mean some sort of betrayal to his gender. Perhaps he sensed that he was being baited. "Well, sure. But mostly it's about a girl we fancy; why we like her, and…" Ron trailed off, his cheeks reddening.

"And?" She prompted, partly due to exasperation, partly out of curiosity.

"You know…like qualities and er, attributes…" He was not about to go further into depth on that matter.

"Oh _really_?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And what sort of _attributes_ would those be?"

His ears were beginning to compliment his hair nicely, as he sputtered a response. "Probably the same sort of dribble you and the other girls gush whenever you mention your perfect Krum." Ron adopted a falsely feminine tone, batting his eyelashes in an overly exaggerated manner. "He's _so_ handsome, he's _so_ strong! What cute toenails he has!"

Hermione glowered at him, eyes flashing. "The immaturity you're capable of is really quite staggering." The intensity of her anger was such that he reckoned he could feel the heat coming off of her. "And if anyone spends the majority of their time talking about Krum, then it's _you_, Ron. Despite your complaints and protests, you seem to be the one to have developed an infatuation with him!"

"Oh, don't you wish!" Ron snorted, then snorted again for added emphasis, the result of which merely made him sound congested. "Just because you think he's so great Hermione…"

She rolled her eyes, burying her face in her work. "Once again you're making absolutely no sense." She attacked the parchment with her quill, her brow creasing in frustration. "It's an utter waste trying to reason with you."

"…_utter waste_…" he mimicked under his breath, only to earn yet another filthy look. The two lapsed into a venomous silence, their furious scrawling replacing the heated words.

After a moment, Hermione felt the lingering presence of his gaze pass over her. Tremendously annoyed by the steady distraction, she fought to ignore it, the failure of which irritated her all the more. Brimming with vexation, she jerked her head toward him. "_What_?"

He observed her indignantly, looking very much as if the whole matter were beneath his dignity. "An utter waste, am I?"

Hermione felt sure it was his wounded pride speaking. "That's not what I meant," she muttered with a sigh. "You're taking my words out of context."

"Well, _you're_ the one who said it, Hermione."

She rounded on him furiously. "If you're going to twist around everything I have to say, then perhaps I shouldn't say anything at all!"

Ron sat back smugly, his arms folded behind his head. "_Great_ idea! Go with that, won't you?" His suggestion was promptly met with a roll of parchment to the face, which, surprisingly, left a bit of a sting. Rubbing his cheek crossly, he scowled, only to find her towering above him with the intimidating furor of a woman scorned.

"You're impossible!" Her eyes were glinting unusually bright; in fact, she seemed more upset by their verbal sparring than usual. "You never give any consideration to what leaves your mouth!"

A strange notion entered Ron's less-than-mature mind, and given said immaturity, he felt inclined to share it with her, despite its sensitive subject matter. "Bloody hell, Hermione," he murmured in amazement, struck by his own singularly accurate intuition. "You're not _jealous_, are you?"

An active volcano, spewing its noxious fumes, and oozing great floods of scorching molten-lava could not have made for a more frightening sight than the expression that presently crossed Hermione's irate countenance. "Jealous, _me_?" She gave a brief, mirthless laugh. "_Jealous_?" The laughter stopped; Ron braced himself for the onslaught.

"And why would I be jealous?" She demanded, her rage suddenly weakening, thinning out into a stammering protest. "Honestly, why should I care if you prefer to chase after trollops like that Fleur? Or that you, Seamus, and Dean spend your time gossiping about girls' _attributes_?" She tossed her hair haughtily, in way that seemed to suggest that this was her final word on the subject. "It's of no great concern to me who you like, Ron."

"Blimey, Hermione," he felt himself going all red again. "I was talking about Harry and Cho. I meant are you jealous of _her_…" It was his turn to stammer ineffectively, "You know…for spending all that time with Harry…"

"Oh." She seemed to deflate before his eyes, adopting a sheepish expression. They both avoided the other's gaze, concentrating with interest on the stone floor or the room's high ceiling.

Hermione spoke up first, albeit awkwardly. "_Of course_ not. I only want Harry to be happy." She looked flushed (was she blushing, he wondered?) and fidgeted with her hands. "Where did you get that idea?"

Ron slouched deeper into the sofa, the thought of Hermione and Harry disturbing him more than he would have liked to admit. "I dunno," he shrugged. "I guess it's because you won't go and talk to him about Cho. I just thought that maybe you didn't like her or something…"

She tentatively took a seat beside him. "Well, for one thing," she reminded him with a small smile. "I'm not allowed up right now; it's past dormitory visiting hours. And secondly, I thought that you ought to be the one to comfort Harry."

He studied her face for a moment before answering. "Why is that?"

Hermione shook her head, as if he had stupidly asked for a most obvious fact. "Because you're good at helping people to forget their problems, Ron. You're funny, and you say the most ridiculous things—"

Ron shot her an offended look. "Gee, _thanks_ Hermione."

Her stern frown quickly silenced him. "Let me finish, will you? _Anyway_, what I'm trying to say is that you're good with people. You tend to make them feel better about themselves…" she trailed off, embarrassed.

"Yeah, once they take a good look at me and my family," he turned away self-consciously, "they can't _help_ but feel better about themselves."

"Ron that isn't true and you know it," she shot back fiercely, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Your family has some of the warmest, kindest people I've ever met."

Ron flashed her a knowing grin, though she could read the insecurity behind it. "Except for me, right?" He teased, making a joke of it, "Well, and maybe Fred and George."

Hermione realized that she still hadn't removed her hand from his shoulder. She wasn't quite sure why. "I stand by what I said. Your family has some of the warmest, kindest people I've ever met…even if a couple of them act like jerks now and again."

"Yeah, that's Fred and George for you." He was also staring at her hand, noting how slender and small it looked. When she pulled it back shyly, he felt an inexplicable stab of disappointment. "Hermione?"

"Hm?"

He fumbled over the words, reluctant to release them, but desperately needing to know the truth. "So…you _don't_ then…?"

She eyed him, questioningly. "Don't what?"

Why was it so difficult for him to say it? "You don't, you know, _like_ Harry, do you?" He nervously tried to read her expression; she seemed bewildered (or was she insulted?). Damn ears! He was certain that they were going scarlet.

Then she smiled. "Harry is my friend," Hermione explained in a tone more gentle than that which Ron was accustomed to. "That's all. If I dislike Cho, it's only because I'm afraid she might hurt him."

"Right," he broke out into a relieved grin.

"Besides," she continued airily, retrieving her homework. "I know it's rather shocking, but it's Malfoy that I _really_ fancy."

Ron's face fell, and the horror that crossed his freckled visage was almost laughable. _Almost_. But even Hermione wasn't _that_ cruel. "Gotcha," she grinned.

He stood up, engulfed in pure revulsion. "That's not funny, Hermione. I think I might be sick." He headed purposefully toward the staircase.

"Where are you going?" She asked him, hopefully.

Ron flashed her a confident smile. "I think I'll go have a word with Harry before dinner…"

Hermione returned the smile, nodding her approval. "_Thank you_, Ron. I'll wait here—"

He paused halfway up the stairs, glancing slyly down at her. "…about _your_ attributes."

She nearly dropped her quill.

* * *

Fin

(Yes, I know that last line was a bit out-of-character for Ron, but I thought it might be justified given the fact that he's teasing her.)


End file.
